Jane Eyre

It's almost time.

Onion-Yum!

(I apologize for the lack of photographs accompanying this post, it was so yummy, I ate it before I had time to realize what I'd done)

I was hungry, but all I had that was easy was Ramen noodles, which I wasn't feeling, so I commandeered one of my mother's onions and went to town. OH MERCY. It was delicious.


And now you can experience it for yourself:


1 yellow onion, chopped (the sweeter the disposition, the better)

1 tbsp crushed cumin

2 tsps curry power

1 tbsp raw cane sugar

1 heaping tbsp of fresh minced garlic

1/4 cup slivered almonds (sliver me almonds matey!)

1/4 cup sunflower seeds (not salted)

1/4 stick of butter

(chick peas could also be really great in this, just saying)


Sautee onions on medium heat in butter and seasonings for 15 minutes (or until they have become quite sqishy and carmelly). If it becomes dry, add more butter or a bit of olive oil.


About seasoning to taste: Keep in mind that you may prefer some of the seasonings more than others, so if you're going for a sweet curry flavor, add some more sugar, if you want a biting-warm curry flavor, stick with more cumin. Either way, it's great.


Add sunflower seeds and almonds, stir, cover and simmer for a few more minutes, just long enough for the nuts and seeds to become slightly softened and soak up a bit of the flavors.


Enjoy!

My brother is featured on a blog!

You can read the article here!

A couple of bits of poems:

1: Are you afraid?
Are you?
I am scared to death.
But I could easily be scared to life.




2: The sun was staring me in the eye
The weather was whispering,
“Suggestion is a way of life
That I can’t seem to escape.”

At a Bach Concert

This morning in my car

The sun was staring me in the eye
The weather was whispering,
“Suggestion is a way of life
That I can’t seem to escape.”

And I took pictures of things that make my car, Penelope, mine.

My relationship with my car is a complicated one, we are on and off again all the time, due to her fickle distributor and failure to pass emissions tests, but I took her out for an oil change and wheel alignment yesterday to celebrate Valentine's Day.

Happy Valentines Day.


Holding the mirrors to the visor.


The little trumpet on the horn (that doesn't really work).


Proof of the oil change . . .


. . . buttons . . .


. . . buttons . . .


. . . buttons . . .


Keys.


Best place to live in the world.


Best band in the world.


The driver.


The peace in the backseat


So many miles . . .


Co-pilot.


Buttons


Tree view from the passenger window (the one that got broken into last year).



Sky view from the sunroof.

'Stars hide your fires,
And these here are my desires
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so, I’ll be found with my stake stuck in this ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul.'


Roll Away Your Stone
-Mumford and Sons

Caught

Some words catch me
Off guard,
Or while running from them,
Hiding from them,
But they find me suddenly.

I imagine that my mind,
All pinkish,
Is like a subway system,
Running smoothly,
Until the words catch the right car.

They climb on board the car,
Taking hostages,
And forcing everyone to listen,
They hurl insults
And mock the life that is mine.

But everyone in the car is me,
And being angry,
I attack the words with sharp looks
And slice them,
Cutting them into paper snowflakes.

On the commute in . . .

I was thinking about my life (because driving on three inches of ice for an hour will make one do this) on the way into a frozen Nashville this morning. And there are some things I must do that I dreamed about last night:

1 Ride in a hot air balloon
2 See the Northern Lights

Sigh. And etc, etc. . .

New Drawings . . .

are up on the art blog.

I was Wild

I was wild

I was taught to hear by trees
Laying listless under the rustle, listening to them play.
I was taught to see by the sun
Watching it wiggle on watery ripples washing away.
I was taught to speak by the crocus
Rebelling to break the silence of Winter’s frozen day.
I was taught to feel by the grass
Holding my skin in its vast, soothing-cool sway.

I was raised by the trees and creek and crocus.
I grew among them, fed by the same sun.
I ran wild with them, driven by the same restlessness.

This Morning

I felt the breathing of the sleeping Earth this morning.
I was quiet so I would not wake it
And throw it from its rhythmic whirl on its axis,
Waking it from its dizzy dreaming state.
I know it must be tired.
It has been bearing the weight for all of time.
Yet I feel it is peacefully sleeping,
Waiting for the time when waking, it shall rest.

Guess what? This picture is real. Reality is magical.

To the Evening Star

By William Blake

Thou fair-hair’d angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares thro’ the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are cover’d with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.